Surviving
by Wren137
Summary: As an elf and a mage, much of Alim's young life has been defined by survival, both the need to physically survive the many dangers of his life, but also the attempt to mentally and emotionally survive years of abuse, neglect, and injustice.
1. On the Road

I only have a few memories left of the Alienage. Mostly I remember being cold and hungry most of the time. The people who ran the orphanage tried their best, but there were always more children then they quite had room for. The older children were taught skills or apprenticed out, but us younger ones mostly ran wild in the yard as there were too few adults to pay us much mind once the babies were looked after. As is often the case with large numbers of mostly unsupervised children, there was a fair bit of bullying that went on. I never really figured out the social pecking order, except that I was apparently at the bottom. I did my best to stay out of the way of my tormenters, but there was only so much I could do. Another lingering memory of my time there is the fear of an impending beating. It was this fear that shaped most of my young life.

I was about seven when my magic abilities first surfaced. I had been cornered by several bigger boys when I let out a mental blast, not unlike the mind blast spell. I remember wanting them to go away, then a feeling in my head of pushing something out in all directions. It knocked all the bullies down, and a couple of them were stunned. One of the bystanders ran to get an adult and the chantry was summoned. I was locked in a closet while they waited for the templars to arrive. I really didn't understand what was going on, just that I had done something bad and was in trouble. When the templars tried to drag me away, I panicked again, letting out another mental blast. It was too weak to take out the templars, but they reacted by quickly draining me of all my manna, leaving me feeling dizzy and weak. I'm probably lucky that my instinctive response was not more lethal, otherwise they may have killed me then, child or no.

The templars told me they were taking me somewhere 'safe', that I would be alright as long as I behaved. But they had little patience with a terrified child and quickly resorted to threats and slaps in order to keep me quiet and docile. I quickly learned to do what I was told, and only what I was told. As long as I behaved myself, they left me alone, which was better than I could expect from the bullies who would come after me for no other reason than boredom. The trip to the tower is mostly a blur now. I remember being amazed at how green the country side was. I also remember the blisters I developed from walking so much in ill fitting shoes. When I began to stumble and whimper from the pain, one of the templars took pity on me, tending my wounds and giving me some elfroot to chew on. That and the fact that they fed me regularly endeared them to me despite the rough treatment. The ferry ride over to the tower itself was a particular highlight, as I had never been on board a boat before. And the tower was like nothing I had seen before. I thought it a palace.

My first few years at the tower went well. I guess you could say I was happy. I took quickly to the study of magic and had never lived so comfortably before. I was an obedient child and rarely got into trouble. To be honest, I was a bit of a teacher's pet. I still had difficulty getting on with my peers. I had a few friends, but my instinctive caution and excessive talent made me unpopular for the most part. The upside was that there were fewer bullies and the watching templars kept any harassment mild, at least physically. Some of the older apprentices even went out of their way to protect me when they were around, finding my cuteness compensation for my lack of social skills, though it wasn't until adolescence that my looks really began to have an impact.

I'm not particularly vain, but neither am I unaware that I'm considered attractive by most standards. Most humans find elves pretty anyways, but even other elves tend to like me. I guess I can see it. I'm petite with delicate features, and the contrast between my pale skin and black hair is quite striking. But I'm more pretty or cute than sexy in my mind. I'm certainly not some ideal of masculinity. I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise that I'm as popular with the men as I am with the woman, if not more so. I've never had much of a preference myself, though most of my experience has been with men as they tend to be more aggressive and I'm not the type to instigate a relationship under most circumstances. It was interesting seeing people who had more or less ignored me for years begin to vie for my attentions, and quite flattering. Between my new popularity and my success in my studies, I became a great deal more confident. I was still a quiet sort, but it was more due to habit than fear. I made more friends, and a few enemies. I broke hearts, and had mine broken in turn. I took risks. For a boy who had spent a large portion of his childhood reading stories and wishing he was anyone other than who he was, real life suddenly had new meaning and attraction. I was living my life instead of just surviving it.

These golden days didn't last long. My looks attracted bad attention as well as good. While the templars had all taken vows of chastity, not all were content to live by them, especially after watching a bunch of young, attractive apprentices flirt away the day. Some of my peers even took to teasing them, taking advantage of the situation to get back at our guards in small petty ways. Obviously some of them dealt better with such temptation than others. There were always rumors going around of some templar or another who was having an affair with a mage. It was against the rules of course, but we mages tended to protect the offending couple, not eager to help the chantry enforce its many rules. This was as long as it was all consensual. Religious zealots like the templars tend to be aren't the most stable of men. It was not uncommon for one to be a little off. Many saw us mages as inherently evil and blamed their desires on some trick of ours. It wasn't common, but rape did occur at times, and it was ridiculously easy for them to get away with it. Templars have the authority to kill a mage if we become dangerous, with the concept of dangerous being uncomfortably loosely defined. Many of us were terrified of them. They were like angry and fickle gods, likely to strike us down at the least infraction. In situations where it came down to our word against theirs, templars always had the upper hand. They only had to claim that they saw you acting suspicious or practicing blood magic and you became guilty until proven innocent. A lot of mages are too frightened of the possible reprisals to report a crime committed by a Templar. I certainly was.

The templar who attacked me was named Brand. He found some excuse to get me alone, drained my manna, and overpowered me. I tried to fight back, but a couple of blows soon made it clear that I wasn't going to win, and so I was left hoping for survival. When he was done, he ordered me to clean up the 'evidence' and threatened me if I dared tell anyone about what had happened. I tried to put the experience behind me. I was strong now. So I had been hurt and used, I wouldn't let it define me. But it kept happening. For a better part of a year he tormented me. I did everything I could to protect myself from him. I avoided being alone, kept myself busy with official duties as much as possible, memorized his schedule so that I could better avoid him… none of it worked. No matter what I did, he would find opportunities to get at me. Eventually the pain, humiliation, and hopelessness of the situation got to me, and I sank into a depression. I withdrew from lovers and friends. I became distant and unfocused during lessons. I went back to the habits I had gained while living in fear of my childhood bullies.

I even tried halfheartedly to kill myself. I say halfheartedly because all I had to do was walk up and attack the Knight-Commander with magic and I would have been run though by half a dozen templars before I finished casting. Instead I slit my wrists and was promptly found and healed. At least it managed to alert my teachers that something was actually wrong. It was obvious that I was troubled. I had begun to slip in my studies and had become even quieter than usual and quite jumpy. Most of them assumed it was normal teenage angst until my attempted suicide. I was put under constant supervision, while healers and priests tried to get me to tell them what was wrong. Even then I was too scared to say anything. Or maybe I believed that even if I said something, nothing would change. At least all the attention I was suddenly getting made it a lot harder for Brand to get me alone. I was beginning to feel somewhat safe again when he managed to get himself assigned as one of my watchers.

I don't know if I had become stronger in those weeks of relative safety, or whether Brand had become careless in his desire to have me after being denied so long, but he somehow failed to completely drain me of manna that last time. When I realized that I still had some manna left, I threw the biggest mind blast I could at him. I seem to have an affinity for the spell and can cast it even when I'm normally too distracted to put together another spell. It's also tends to be stronger for me then it should be considering how little manna it requires. Not that I was thinking all this at the time. I was simply reacting and it was the first thing to come to mind. In some ways, not much had actually changed over the years, at least where my instinctual responses are concerned. I was still that frighten, desperate child, corner by a bully, striking out in the only way I could. Brand hadn't been expecting such an attack, thinking I was drained. My spell knocked him off of me and stunned him, but most importantly it summoned every templar close enough to sense it.

They found me curled up on the floor in a ball, sobbing, and Brand dizzily trying to regain his feet. One of the templars instinctively hit me with a Holy Smite before taking in the whole scene, but one of the others noticed Brand's half dressed state and was able to put two and two together. He demanded that the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter be summoned before anything else occurred. It was the second time I had attacked a templar with my magic and again I was lucky not to be killed outright. It was in my favor that I had used only non-lethal magic and had been clearly attacked. Still, I was kept in solitary confinement and questioned and watched closely while the matter was investigated. Brand eventually disappeared from the tower, we weren't told what happened to him, and I was released.

It was hard putting my life back together; I didn't feel safe, half expecting to be attacked at any moment. I had terrible nightmares, but I think the worst part was how everyone treated me like some delicate doll that might break at any moment. Their pity made me feel pathetic and helpless. My confidence never quite returned completely and I never again felt safe in the tower, but over time I began to heal. I promised myself that I would never let myself get hurt like that again, even if the alternative was death. I became obsessed with the idea of getting out of the tower one day. I was still too cautious to attempt an escape, but I thought that if I trained hard and proved myself trust worthy, they might let me leave to serve in the army, or as some nobleman's personal healer. I returned to my studies with new drive, proving myself one of the most talented apprentices in the tower. I did so well that I was assigned First Enchanter Irving himself as my new mentor. My love life, on the other hand, never recovered. I simply stopped having much interest in sex. I knew intellectually that it could feel good, but I couldn't make myself trust another person enough to let them that close again. My fear of the templars in general also became more pronounced. I learned to mask it, but I was acutely aware of any of them around me at all times. I taught myself to act as if nothing was wrong, to save myself from the embarrassing pity and concern, but also because I knew that they would never let me leave as long as they thought that I was emotionally vulnerable. By the time I reached my Harrowing, I believe most thought I was completely recovered from my ordeal, or had forgotten about it entirely, so good I had become at hiding my feelings.

My Harrowing went smoothly. I was confident in my magical abilities, if not in anything else, and was not the type to give trust easily. I wanted to beg Irving to send me to Ostagar to serve in the army immediately but was distracted first by the presence of the Gray Warden, Duncan, then by Jowan's problems. Jowan had been one of the few friends I had managed to make and keep over the years. To learn that he was going to be made tranquil, surprised and unnerved me. I wanted to help him but was afraid. I didn't believe that he could possibly be a blood mage, but if he escaped it would be as good as admitting his guilt as far as the chantry was concerned. I thought he was being incredibly foolish to risk so much for a girl. Losing a lover seemed preferable to me than risking death or tranquility. I thought he should go to Irving and explain the whole situation but he wouldn't give up Lily. I told them I had to think about it, then went straight to Irving myself only to find out that he already knew about Lily and that Jowan was going to be made tranquil anyways.

I briefly considered telling Irving about Jowan's escape plan. It might help prove that I was loyal to the circle, and therefore, help my case that it was safe to let me leave. But I couldn't betray Jowan like that if there was still a chance that he could succeed. I still believed that he had been wronged, that he was being punished due to rumors and politics, not because he had actually dabbled in blood magic. I could not be involved in condemning a fellow mage and a good friend just to reassure chantry fears. I certainly didn't feel like I own the chantry or the tower anything at that point. Neither could I blame Jowan for his desire to be free. But to actually help him would mean risking my life, all my hard work to prove myself, for a friend who would probably end up tranquil or dead anyways. If we were caught, I could give up on ever seeing the outside of the tower. Even if he managed to escape, if it was discovered that I had helped him, I would most likely end up sentenced to death for aiding a Malificar whether or not he had actually ever used blood magic. Still, Jowan and Lilly they claimed that their plan would not work without me. I was not happy about simply standing by and doing nothing while my friend's life was destroyed. I had promised myself that I would not go down without a fight again, that I wouldn't let fear rule me… did that include fighting for a friend?

In the end I choose to help Jowan, not so much because I thought the plan would work, but because I wasn't sure I could live with myself if I didn't. It turned out they needed me because I had already gone through my harrowing, unlike Jowan and most of his other friends. I was able to obtain a rod of fire easily enough as well as get us pass the defenses and into the repository. I began to feel almost hopeful once we destroyed Jowen's phylactery and began to make our way back upstairs. They caught us as we were coming out of the basement. A part of me will always wonder what would have happened if Jowan hadn't used blood magic then. I might have been speared a death sentence. Then again, maybe I should have tried to escape with him when he ran. The templars still had my phylactery, but I might have had a chance. Instead I stood there like an idiot, shocked that he had lied to me. I would be dead now if Duncan hadn't saved me. I wonder if I still would have helped Jowan if I had known Duncan was considering recruiting me or if I knew he was actually a blood mage. I guess I should consider the whole mess a success after all. Jowan escaped and I got to leave the tower. Only poor Lily ended up being punished. Jowan lied to her as well and it turned out not to be her fault that Jowan was being made Tranquil in the first place. I still think they were both foolish, but I'm told that love tends to have that effect. I think I will always carry the guilt of knowing Lilly suffered while Jowan and I went free. I wonder if Jowan feels the same.

I've had plenty of time to consider my feeling on the matter as I follow Duncan to Ostagar. He doesn't talk much unless he has something important to say, and we've already established that I'm a quiet one. I will say this for Duncan, he's an excellent person to travel with. He's been extremely patient with my lack of knowledge about life outside of the tower and how to take care of myself in general. He neither yells at me nor tries to baby me, instead just explaining what to do and teaching me what I need to know. I feel the beginnings of a crush developing. He saved my life; he's like my own personal knight and shining armor. He's good looking too, not that I would ever act on such feelings. Still, I've been enjoying being with him. It makes me feel good about my future as a Gray Warden.

It'll probably be months before I feel halfway competent, but with Duncan around I don't feel nearly as lost as I should considering that I haven't left the tower in about 15 years. I've become reacquainted with the concept of blisters, though this time I can heal them myself. I've also found that lightning bolts are remarkably effective at killing fish, so I don't feel completely useless. Duncan even showed me how to clean and cook them so that I could take my turn at providing our evening meal. Duncan reassures me that my skills will be just as effective against the darkspawn. I find myself both excited and nervous at the idea of actually doing something with my magic. In the tower I occasionally would work a shift in the infirmary, or make potions, but the healing arts were never my particular strength. I've always found it odd how much magic gets taught in the circle that we never get a chance to put to use. Irving says that it has to do with keeping us available in case of an emergency, yet it's so difficult to get the chantry to let us out even with a war brewing. With the Gray Wardens, I would spend my life doing real good, defending the world against a true threat. And I would be allowed to travel, make decisions for myself, and would never again have to live constantly watched and treated like a non-person who might turn into a monster at any moment. I would be allowed to use my magic to defend myself. I would be able to escape those who threaten me. And if Duncan was to be believed, the other Wardens would stand by me and help me, despite my status as a mage, against any foe. Not that I really believe in that last part. Duncan seemed to be a good man, but I doubt that all the Wardens are as free of prejudices as he is. Still, he's their leader. Surely, that would count for something.

Maybe it's finally being free of the tower, but I feel hopeful. Perhaps I shouldn't trust Duncan as much as I find myself doing. I hardly know him. Of course I don't really have a choice about it. I'm stuck with him for now. Without the Wardens I would be forced to return to the tower or hunted down as an apostate. I'm under no illusions about my ability to survive on my own while on the run. I need Duncan, but I don't feel trapped. I'm following him into war. Yet I feel safer than I have in years. There's probably something wrong with me. I certainly need to work on not allowing myself to get distracted by and staring in wondered at every new flower or tree or view we come across, or the darkspawn will simply kill me while I admire a perfectly plain moss cover stone. Wouldn't that be just perfect? At least Duncan seems to be enjoying my constant state on slack jaw wonder.


	2. Ostagar

While I had felt confident about the future while traveling with Duncan, actually arriving at Ostagar and joining the army was a bit intimidating. We were met near the gate by the King. He had obviously asked to be informed as soon as the lookouts had noticed Duncan's arrival. King Cailan was a young man, tall and broad in the way of humans, with long fair hair and a playful smile. He was clearly found of Duncan and greeted us warmly. It had never occurred to me that I was important enough to be introduced to the King, so when he asked my name, calling me friend and treating me as a brother in arms, I was a bit thrown. I managed to respond to him politely enough without revealing my discomfort with the situation, or so I hope. I found myself wondering whether his almost childlike carefree attitude was real or only an act designed to put others at ease. I think Duncan would have preferred that the he take the threat the darkspawn posed more seriously, but was thankful for the King's support despite his glory seeking attitude. Duncan was convinced that this was the beginning of a Blight, and everything that history had to say on the matter would suggest our situation was quite hopeless despite how well the previous battles had gone. Duncan had every reason to think that this was just the very beginning of a long and difficult war under the best of circumstances. King Cailan, on the other hand seemed only to see the glory and fame that would come from defeating the blight. Luckily it seemed that the young King at least had an experienced and talented general to counter his enthusiasm and inexperience.

After meeting the King, I was allowed to explore the camp a bit on my own. Just like the trip south, the reality of the war camp was new, exciting, and more than a bit overwhelming. I found myself more nervous without Duncan's reassuring presence at my side, though I made myself explore despite my unease. I took my time moving through the crowded and busy ruins, taking in people and architecture with an equal amount of wonder. Large tents and pavilions had been erected in what was once a great courtyard, organized in groups by function and fraction. The king and the other nobles were camped on the southern end, as far as possible from the circle's encampment in the northeastern corner, with the chantry representative occupying the intervening space. Along the western edge of the courtyard were the various practical compounds of kennels, quartermaster, hospital, and mess hall. The Warden's had a small camp in the middle of everything, though the majority of them seemed to be staying in the valley below with most of the soldiers. Not feeling comfortable among either the nobles or the mage and chantry groups, I contented myself with exploring the western side. Duncan had provided me with a bit of coin, so I took the opportunity of procuring a hot meal and some better equipment. I also spent some time at the kennels, having never seen one of the impressive mabari war dogs before. The kennel master was quite willing to discuss his charges with an appreciative audience especially once he realized that I was to become a Gray Warden. He even asked for my help muzzling a dog infected with the blight sickness as Gray Wardens are known to be immune, though how they gained that immunity was less clear. I had always been fascinated by the idea of such intelligent dogs as the mabari were rumored to be, and was glad to help in exchange for his tolerance for my curiosity. Luckily the dog also seemed to be willing to tolerate my presence and I wasn't forced to find out if my meager healing talents were adequate enough to deal with mauling damage.

I also managed to find and meet both of the other two Gray Warden recruits that Duncan mentioned. Ser Jory was a knight, and reminded me a little too much of a Templar with his large frame and excessive talk of duty. He also seemed uncomfortable with my being an elf and a mage, though he seemed to be willing to work with me. Davith was the opposite, a friendly and cheeky rogue from Denerim. I wouldn't trust him with my pocketbook but otherwise found him to be amusing company. It helped warm me to him that Ser Jory seemed as put off with the idea of traveling with a known thief as he was with a mage. There's nothing like shared distain to bring two people together. Despite Ser Jory's discomfort, I didn't experience as much prejudice as I would have expected. A couple people were a bit rude when thinking I was just another elven servant or messenger, but most seemed to treat me with quite a bit of respect due to my status as a Warden and a mage. I wonder if they would have been half so glad to see me without the darkspawn threat to remind them how useful I could be. Still I was beginning to feel more confident and at ease when I set off to hunt down the Gray Warden named Alistair.

I eventually found Alistair arguing with a mage. I stood to the side, not wanting to interrupt as they shot insults at each other. It made me a bit uncomfortable to see a man that I would supposedly be spending a great deal of time with at odds with a mage. I worried that he, like Ser Jory, would be uncomfortable around me. On the other hand, the mage he was speaking with seemed to be the antagonistic one. After the mage, who I didn't know personally, stormed off, I cautiously approached Alistair hoping to make a good first impression. The man was obviously a warrior, both by his figure and his stance. Once again, I was reminded a bit of the Templars, they being the only warriors I was used to dealing with. But no Templar had ever looked at me with sparkling eyes and smirking mouth. He was quite attractive with short blondish-brown hair, strong squarish features, and lightly tanned skin. I tried to stand tall as he looked me over, trying not to reveal my nervousness, realizing that, as another Warden, I cared more what this man thought of me than any other I had met yet that day, even the two other recruits or the King.

We managed to get through our introductions without any unpleasantness, though I frowned slightly at his comment about thinking he had already been yelled at by all the mages in camp. It didn't help dispel my fear that he would have a problem with my magic. Yet he was friendly enough as he explained that as the junior most Gray Warden, it was his job to escort the other recruits and I as we prepared for the joining, the mysterious ritual by which we would become full Gray Wardens. As we made our way back to Duncan and the others I asked him about the Gray Wardens and the upcoming battle finding him more talkative and open than Duncan tended to be. He still skirted around the issue of the joining, obviously finding the topic uncomfortable. After several minutes talking to him without him lashing out at me for being a mage, I felt comfortable enough to bring up the argument I had walked in on.

Looking a bit uncomfortable, Alistair explained. "Well, the circle is here by the king's request, and the chantry doesn't like that one bit," he began as if I wouldn't know. "They love letting the mages know just how unwelcome they are. The Reverend Mother probably meant it as an insult, sending me with the message, and the mage picked right up on it. You see, I was once, um, a templar." Alistair looked away as he said that last bit, but I doubt that he missed the way I froze for a second before forcing myself to continue walking by his side.

"You were a templar?" I asked, keeping my voice carefully even.

"Well, I trained as one. Duncan recruited me before I took my final vows."

"I see. That would be awkward."

"Yes, well I would never have agreed to take the message, but Duncan says that we're all to cooperate and get along. It seems they didn't get the same speech," Alistair finished somewhat lamely, looking unhappy either about being used by the reverend mother in such a way or about telling me he was a Templar. We walk in silence for a couple of minutes, before I hesitantly asked him how he went from training as a Templar to becoming a Gray Warden. Alistair immediately brightened up, telling me all about some tournament, and how Duncan insisted that he be allowed to fight and choose him even though he didn't win. I listened to him chatter on as I tried to sort out my feelings. I was not happy about him being a Templar, or even an ex-almost Templar. Still he seemed happy about not being one anymore and talked as if the chantry were the unreasonable ones and not the mages. I knew it would take me some time before I would be able to relax in his company again, but I felt that I owe it to him to give him the benefit of the doubt. I know that not all Templars are monsters like Brand was, and that many of them didn't even choose to become Templers in the first place, but it was hard not to react emotionally to the news. I had thought myself free of the Templars only to find myself traveling with one. Luckily, Alistair seemed unaware of my internal conflict and was acting what I assume was normal for him again by the time we rejoined Duncan and the others.

Duncan explained that he was sending the four of us into the wilds, to collect three vials of darkspawn blood and to retrieve some lost treaties. It seemed reasonable that they would ask us to face darkspawn at some point before making us Gray Wardens. Still the idea of being asked to collect darkspawn blood was unnerving. Added to the knowledge that the Gray Wardens had some immunity to its poison made me suspect some sort of magic being involved in becoming a Gray Warden, that it would not be as simple as pledging ourselves to the cause. I kept those fears to myself, not wanting to scare my fellow somewhat magic weary recruits with such thoughts. If they wanted to assume it was simply some sort of trophy, a traditional way of proving their skills in battle, I was willing to let them. As it was, I was trying not to let my discomfort with the majority of my traveling companions distract me from the upcoming fighting. We were going to have to work together if we were going to make it through the test alive. I wished that Duncan was accompanying me instead of three human men that I barely knew. Again I forced myself to head out with them without showing my fear. We would be too busy staying alive; none of them would hurt me.

Alistair refused to lead us, insisting he was there as backup but that it was our mission. At least he was willing to let us know when he felt darkspawn nearby, preventing us from falling into any traps. Of course finding that he had the ability to 'sense' darkspawn seemed to support my theory about magic being involved in the joining. Ser Jory was the obvious choice as our group leader, as he had the most formal military training. Unfortunately, as the concept of actually facing the darkspawn sank in, he became more and more frighten. Davith, ended up taking point, being able to move almost silently through the forest and somewhat familiar with the Wilds from growing up so near them. His time on the streets of Denerim had given him both nerves of steel and an almost supernatural ability to sense danger. It didn't take long for me to figure out why Duncan had chosen him. Ser Jory followed closely behind, so as to be able to enter melee quickly after the enemy was sighted, while I hung back where I could offer range support while staying out of the thick of battle. Alistair stayed close to Ser Jory, also being a melee fighter. Furthermore, staying near the middle of our group allowed him to warn us of darkspawn approaching from any direction.

There were five darkspawn in the first group we encountered, two Hurlock warriors and three Genlock archers. Alistair and Jory quickly moved up to engage the two Hurlocks, while Davith tried to sneak around and surprise the archers from behind. I focused on which ever enemy I had a clear shot at, trying to take some of the pressure off of our two knights. For all his earlier nerves, Ser Jory turn out to be fearless in battle, neither him nor Alistair balking at throwing themselves in the midst of things. I'm not sure he even felt the arrow that embedded itself in his shoulder as he took off the head of the Hurlock he was fighting with a mighty swing from his great-sword. Alistair took down his foe without injury, his shield providing him with more coverage from the archers. Once the Hurlocks went down, they quickly scrambled up the small hill to help Davith take out the remainders of the archers. When the last darkspawn had fallen, I rushed to Ser Jory's side to help him with his shoulder while Alistair supervised Davith as he filled the three glass vials we had brought with us with the toxic black darkspawn blood.

Ser Jory had been a little reluctant to allow me to treat his shoulder with magic, but thanked me with surprised as he experimentally flexed the healed muscle. Few people will turn down magical healing once they have experienced it. Even the Templars had made use of the mage run infirmary at the tower to heal their training mishaps. I think our ability to heal is the only reason the chantry hasn't tried to get rid mages altogether, knowing that no one would support the lost of such a useful service. There had been plenty of times that I wished that I had more talent in that area, as healers were the most respected kind of mage, and the most likely to be let out of the tower. There was even one mage that had made multiple escape attempts from the tower without being killed or made tranquil because his healing abilities were considered too valuable to lose. As it was, I had managed to perfect a few minor healing spells, but major injuries and diseases were beyond me. On the other hand, my ability to set things on fire was near unmatched, a skill that was proving most affective against the darkspawn. Even when it didn't kill them out right, it was very good at distracting them, providing openings for the others.

After the success of our first encounter with the darkspawn, we moved through the wilds with more confidence. Even Ser Jory seemed to settle down. There were still some tight moments, but we were able to find the ruined Gray Warden tower without suffering any injuries beyond my ability to heal. I was even given reason to be glad of Alistair's Templar abilities when we found ourselves facing a darkspawn mage. He was able to negate several nasty spells as I took the monster out with a couple lighting attacks. I had never experienced before the feeling of closeness that develops from facing danger together. By the end of the day, I found that I had become quite fond of my companions which made what came later even more difficult.

The treaties we sought at the ruined tower were supposed to be sealed in a warded chest, protected from both the elements and thieves. The chest we found easily enough, but it contained no scrolls, its wards having worn off or been broken years earlier. What we did find was a human girl, an apostate and witch of the wilds. She introduced herself as Morrigan, and told us that her mother had the treaties. We were a little reluctant to follow her, not knowing if she spoke the truth or was trustworthy, but there seemed little choice if we wanted to return with the treaties. The mother was just as strange as the daughter, if not more so. I could feel the power in her and protecting their home. No doubt Alistair could as well. The veil seemed thin around the old woman, though I couldn't tell if it was because of frequent use of powerful magic or due to demonic influence. I supposed it could have even been due to both. No matter, I was determined to polite. I was not convinced that we would be able to protect ourselves if we got on the old woman's bad side. Luckily, we didn't have to find out. She returned the treaties, made some cryptic comments, and sent us on our way.

Despite the strangeness of our encounter with the witches, being able to return to Duncan with both the treaties and the darkspawn blood left me in good spirits. That we had accomplished our goals felt like a sign that my life as a Gray Warden would go equally well, that it was meant to be. I had even been able to find several of the herbs that the kennel master had asked for, and got to check in on the sick mabari when I stopped by to drop them off. Duncan seemed pleased with, but unsurprised by our success, and told us we would be proceeding with the joining immediately. Pride faltered in the face of the confirmation that the joining was not simply a ceremony, but dangerous it its own right, and we followed Alistair to the ruin temple more solemnly. Ser Jory lost the confidence he had gain by successfully facing the darkspawn, and began to whine nervously once more. Alistair allowed him and Davith to bicker, as he shifted back and forth nervously. Neither did anything to calm my nerves. By the time Duncan arrived carrying a chalice containing a foul smelling liquid, I was eager to get whatever it was over with.

I was not surprised to hear that we would have to drink the darkspawn blood, though I doubt that was the only ingredient present in that foul concoction. I certainly hadn't heard of anyone spontaneously becoming a Gray Warden as a result of the blight sickness. Davith also didn't appear surprised, though Ser Jory turned positively green at the idea. But lack of surprised didn't stop the fear from welling up in my belly as I listen to Alistair recite the ancient words of the joining. Davith was the first to drink the blood. I watched as he fell, his face twisted in agony, and could do nothing. Duncan sadly told the dead man he was sorry, than offered the chalice to Ser Jory. If Davith hadn't died, if Ser Jory had gone first, maybe he wouldn't have panic so. As is, he refused to drink, going as far as to draw his sword on Duncan. I too was unnerved by watching Davith die, my body almost shaking with its need to run, but to threaten Duncan seemed unthinkable. Duncan had told us that there was danger and that we would not be allowed to back out. Still, to see him counter Ser Jory's sword with his own, to cut down a terrified man who simply wanted to return to his wife and child, shocked me. Much as I had when Jowan had used blood magic to make his escape, I stood rooted where I was, unable to do anything but watch as Ser Jory also died.

Then it came time for me to drink. My hands were visibly shaking as I took the offered chalice, the stink of the concoction it contained almost overpowering. I looked at Duncan, his expression impassive, then at Alistair whose brows were wrinkled with concern, and then back down at the chalice in my hands. Taking a deep breath I tried to calm myself, reminding myself of how I had passed my harrowing, that this was not the first time I had faced death, that I had no other options. Slowly I raised the cup, forced it to my lips, gagging on, yet swallowing the thick, nasty liquid. It's hard to describe what followed. I was dimly aware of Duncan taking back the chalice before I had the chance to drop it. Then I was swallowed up in pain. My veins were on fire, my head bombarded with stabbing pain, as my mind was taken over by a vision. There were darkspawn, millions of them, and a dragon with evil coming off it in waves. My head was filled with them, fill with awful, yet compelling sound, and I felt myself fading. I tried to hold on to myself, to push away the sights and sounds that threaten to overcome me. I almost sobbed in relief when it all finally faded away, leaving me in the wonderfully peaceful darkness.

I awoke to find Duncan and Alistair leaning over me looking relieved. My body ached, though the feeling was fading fast; as was the nausea. Alistair helped me to my feet as Duncan welcomed me to the Gray Wardens. I couldn't tell how long I had been unconscious, though it had clearly been long enough for them to remove the bodies of the two others. I felt sick, both physically and mentally, feeling the taint course through my veins. I only half listened as Alistair babbled about dreams while Duncan tried to sound reassuring. I took the pendant Alistair pressed into my hands and agreed to join Duncan at the war council, too caught up with my own confused thoughts and whirling emotions to properly speak. Alistair seemed to be reluctant to leave me alone, looking back at me several times as he followed Duncan. I personally was relieved at the chance to recover in private. Leaning against a pillar, I focused on my breathing, using the mind calming techniques I had learned at the tower. I was relieved to be alive, but scared about what the taint might mean for my future. It struck home how little I knew about the Wardens, how little anyone knew. I could understand the need for such secrecy. Clearly few would agree to become Gray Wardens if they knew just what it entailed. Yet after my experiences of the day I was convinced of the threat the darkspawn posed. The Gray Wardens, if what I had been told was anything close to the truth, were needed. They could not risk losing recruits due to fear of the joining. Nor could they risk it being labeled blood magic and evil by the chantry. I understood these things, but I felt betrayed all the same. I had trusted Duncan, and he had almost led me to my death, had led two others to theirs. I was angry, sad, confused, and scared. I looked at the pendant Alistair had given me, admiring the dark color of the blood it contained. He had said that it was so we never forgot what it took to be a Warden; that we never forgot the ones who died on the way. I couldn't imagine forgetting Davith and Jory or the taste and feel of the corrupted blood I had drunk. I couldn't imagine forgetting the taint when I could feel it humming in my blood. I considered throwing the pendant away, but paused. Both Duncan and Alistair had gone through the joining as well, had watched others died, had lived with the taint. I was angry, yes, but I was more scared. I needed them. I needed to know I wasn't alone in this. If they thought that the pendant would help, maybe it would. Instead of throwing it away, I placed it around my neck, slipping it beneath my robes where I could feel it against my skin. I was stuck with the Wardens and they were stuck with me.


	3. Battles and Betrayals

My anger at Duncan faded as quickly as it had arisen. He had asked me to face death, but I had survived. The simple truth was that if he had not recruited me I would likely be dead all the same for aiding Jowan. I was not one of the circle's precious healers; it was unlikely Gregoir would have allowed me a second chance. By the time I reached the war council, I had more or less talked myself into forgiving him, and quickly moved to stand by his comforting presence.

The King was there, of course, as well as another noble I did not recognize, though it was easy enough to surmise that the man must be his famed general, Teyrn Logain. A woman who wore chantry robes, the Reverend Mother I guessed, was also present glaring fiercely at Senior Enchanter Uldred who was representing the circle. Uldred had ignored me ever since his failed bid to become my mentor when I first started showing my true potential, so I was unsurprised when he continued to do so. In general, my arrival was ignored by all but Duncan who smiled down at me as I reached his side before turning his attention back to the ongoing argument.

I had arrived in the middle of an argument between the King and Teyrn Logain. I was surprised to hear anyone speak to the King with such blatant disrespect as Logain did. They seemed to be arguing about whether or not to wait for reinforcements before engaging the darkspawn in a major offensive move. I did not understand all of the issues involved, but it seemed to be more about whose help was to be acceptable rather than whether it was needed or not. Logain clearly had a problem with accepting help from Orlais and was angry at the King for even considering allowing Orlesian troops across the borders. I guess I could understand his reluctance since we had only won independence from Orlais 30 years ago, but this was a Blight we faced. It seemed ridiculous to risk falling to the Blight over concerns of nationality. Maybe I couldn't understand because I lived in the tower. The chantry governed us mages the same whether in Fereldan or Orlais. It was all just as bemusing to me as when Jowan refused to give up Lily to save himself from being made tranquil. Even if it were to mean becoming a vassal of Orlais again, surely stopping the Blight would be worth it none the less. It seemed so obvious to me, but clearly this man felt otherwise. Either he was so convinced that there was no Blight, or he was willing to see Fereldan fall to it rather than risk having to submit to Orlesian rule once more.

Between the King's obsession with glory and Logain's paranoia about Orlais, I was beginning to lose my confidence about our chances in the upcoming battle. But Duncan wasn't saying anything. Surely he would have spoken up if the battle plan was doomed to fail. I was also uncomfortable about being the only person there who was not an important leader. Duncan had told me that it was the King who requested my presence, though I could see no reason for him to do so. I found myself quickly adopting my best 'dutiful apprentice' face praying that I would continue to be ignored.

Unfortunately, the King chose to use me as an excuse to change the topic after shutting down his general's complaints. I managed to respond appropriately to his congratulations as well as avoid reacting to Logain's sneer. It was clear that the man didn't share the King's high opinion of the Wardens. But irrational hatred is something I am use to. When the King assigned me and Alistair the important but trivial task of lighting the signal beacon I was both disappointed and relieved. I was not eager to take a place in the midst of the upcoming battle especially with my dwindling trust in the ones planning it. Yet lighting a beacon seemed to be a ridiculous waste of our abilities. Not that I was going to complain about it to the King. I was still set on the idea of making it out of the meeting without making any powerful enemies. I felt it wisest to keep my mouth shut as much as possible.

Alistair was also less than pleased when informed of our assignment, not that any complaining on our part made a difference. I guess it shouldn't have surprised me when it turned out to be a much more complicated task than had been planned. Somehow the darkspawn had managed to overtake the tower just as the battle began whether due to a remarkable show of tactics on their part or blind luck. Alistair and I had to fight our way through them to reach the beacon. We almost didn't make it at all. In the end we did get the beacon lit, though perhaps a bit on the late side. We looked over the battle field, waiting to see the results Logain's plan to flank the darkspawn, but didn't see any sign of his men moving in. It was Alistair who noticed what looked to be many torches lighting the way as a large number of men moved away from the battle. Not that we were allowed to dwell long on what we were seeing and what it meant. The darkspawn had regrouped, and we soon found ourselves fighting for our lives as they swarmed our position. I was low on manna and unable to defect all of their arrows. I was hit by several and found myself losing consciousness as Alistair desperately fought to keep them off of us.

When I next regained consciousness, I found myself healed and whole once more. I wondered how anyone had gotten to us in time as I took in my surroundings. I was not in a tent or lying in one of the many cots of the field hospital, as I had more than half expected. Rather I found myself in a simply furnished room in what seemed to be a small hut of some sort. It wasn't until I recognized the person in the room that I realized where I must be. It was Morrigan, the witch we had encountered in the wilds. I was most likely in the hut she shared with her mother. She explained that it was her mother that had rescued me and treated my wounds. She gave me back my robes, clean and mended, and told me what she knew while I dressed myself.

Logain had abandoned his king, leaving him to be massacred along with the Gray Wardens by the darkspawn hoard. Alistair and I were the only Gray Wardens to survive the battle. Morrigan's mother had transformed into a giant bird and plucked us from the top of the tower at the last moment. Alistair had suffered a few injuries, but I had been a total mess. It had taken several days for her to heal me, and they had kept me asleep during the process to spare me the pain. I thanked Morrigan for her part in taking care of me than headed outside to find Alistair and her mother.

Alistair was a shadow of the somewhat silly and playful young man I had met only a few days before. He was obviously taking the lost of his fellow Gray Warden's hard. Not that I blamed him. I was also having a difficult time with the idea of Duncan being gone. He had been my anchor in a world I didn't understand. I felt lost and alone. Would Alistair stick by me in his stead, would I have to return to the tower now that the Fereldan Gray Wardens were effectively no more, and who would deal with the Blight, surely no one would expect that Alistair and I take care of the threat on our own? My mind raced with questions and anxieties as I tried to come to terms with what had occurred.

Morrigan's mother interrupted our pity party before Alistair and I could get too morose, introducing herself as the legendary Flemith, and explaining that, yes, we were expected to take care of the blight, just the two of us. We let her talk us into seeking out aid using the treaties she had given us back a few days earlier, and we let her talk us into taking Morrigan with us when we left. I didn't quite believe that we had a chance, but there seemed no choice but to make the attempt. We couldn't stand by while the Blight swallowed up Fereldan, nor could we count on a traitorous general to fight the Blight for us. Alistair was convinced that only a Gray Warden could defeat the Archdemon and thus end the Blight. Whether we liked it or not, whether it was even possible, Alistair and I were the best chance Fereldan had.

We made a quiet group as we made our way out of the wilds. Alistair had his grief, I my fears and doubts, and Morrigan her annoyance at being forced to accompany us. It was not the companionable silence that I had experience while travelling with Duncan, but rather a heavy, depressing silence that weighed on the mind making it harder to break the longer it continued. Despite the lack of conversation, I found myself drawn physically to my companions. I couldn't stop thinking about how alone and vulnerable I was. It had been embarrassing learning how helpless I was on leaving the tower. But the excitement of seeing new places and about the future had tempered my fear. With Duncan there to patiently teach me what I needed to know, I had felt safe despite my incompetence. Now Duncan was gone and the world had turned decidedly unfriendly. I would have been tempted to flee back to the tower if I had any reason to think that the Templars wouldn't kill me on sight.

Instead I found myself looking to my companions for comfort and guidance. It quickly became clear that I wouldn't get any of either from Morrigan. She obviously preferred to be alone, going so far as to set up a separate camp when we stopped for the night. Furthermore, the few comments she had made confirmed that she wouldn't be sympathetic to my lack of knowledge. That left Alistair. The fact that he had been a Templar made me nervous, but he hadn't been anything but friendly since the moment we had met. We had fought side by side, him trusting me to watch his back. He had even seemed genuinely glad to find that I had survived the wounds I had received atop the tower of Ishal. Furthermore, Alistair had never looked at me like he was expecting me to turn into a monster at any moment, unlike the Templars at the tower. It seems extremely petty to hold his past against him under the circumstances. More importantly, I need someone to stand by me, and Alistair is my only option.

I stuck close to Alistair's side, watching him closely when he wasn't looking. We were the last two Gray Wardens left in Fereldan and were facing an impossible task. Surely he wouldn't abandon me. Yet, at the moment at least, he seems to have little use for anything beyond his own grief. I began to worry that he would see me as nothing more than a burden. He had been glad to see I hadn't died, but that didn't mean he was willing to take on the task of teaching me to survive. I had been a Gray Warden for less than a day when the rest had fallen. I know almost nothing about the world or fighting a Blight. I don't even know what being a Gray Warden really means. I may have proven myself useful in a fight, but the results of the battle atop the tower of Ishal had shown how useless I become once my manna runs out. If a battle lasted long enough, I would quickly become a liability instead of an asset. I worry that one day he will get fed up with me and just leave.

I finally came to the conclusion that I need to do two things. First and foremost I need to convince Alistair that I am useful, that I am worth any trouble I may cause him. Secondly I need to learn as much as possible as quickly as possible about everything and anything. The first would hopefully keep me alive until the second made it possible for me to take care of myself. I am going to do whatever it takes to figure this all out. Time after time I have survived against the odds. I am not going to let a lack of skill and knowledge on my part be the death of me. Despite this new determination, I am unsure of how to go about accomplishing either of my goals. So I continued to watch Alistair, trying to both learn from him and discover how I might make myself useful to him.

When the mabari I had helped found us, I was ecstatic. Alistair explained that he must have chosen me as his new master. I've named him Valor after the friendly spirit who had helped me during my harrowing. It seemed suitable since they are both warriors of sorts. Now that I have both Alistair and Valor by my side, I felt safer, almost hopeful. I'm still trying to figure out how to convince Alistair that he needs me as much as I need him, though. He hasn't responded to any of my first attempts at cheering him up, so I have focused on doing whatever small things I can to make him more comfortable. Valor agreed to help me in my efforts once I explained the situation to him. He would hunt up a nice juicy rabbit, while I used my magic to start a fire despite somewhat damp firewood. I cleaned pots and healed blisters, while Valor stood watch or dug up useful herbs. In short we have been doing our best to be cheerful and useful without intruding on his grief. I don't know if Alistair has noticed our efforts, but Morrigan muttered something about being surrounded by fools. I didn't let her comment bother me. It's quite likely that she would leave me without a second thought. Alistair is definitely my best bet.

It shouldn't take us more than another day to reach Lothering according to Morrigan. We would have arrived already if we had been able to head straight there. Instead we have been forced to take a slightly longer route in order to avoid the hoard. I'm not sure if I am looking forward to reaching the small village or not. The idea of civilization of any sort definitely appeals to me. After a lifetime spent in the tower I've gotten rather fond of hot baths and proper beds. On the other hand, once we run into other people we are going to have to be proper Gray Wardens and try to rally them to fight the darkspawn. I don't really know what this task will ask of us, only that it will be difficult. I'm not exactly eager to begin.


	4. Pretty as a Painting

We finally reached Lothering only to be set upon by bandits taking advantage of the refugees fleeing the darkspawn. When we refused to give them any money they attacked us. I hadn't ever killed someone before. I had killed demons, wolves and darkspawn, but never an actual person. During the battle I was too busy fighting and keeping an eye on my companions to think about it. The bandits were a threat to react to, not a group of men who had made bad choices. It wasn't until was all over and I saw the bodies lying on the ground that I realized what I had done. I know that it was in self defense, that killing them would prevent them from preying on anyone else… but it felt wrong somehow.

"We killed them," I said to nobody in particular, watching as blood pooled beneath the bodies. Alistair looked up at me from where he was wiping the blood off his blade on one of the dead men's tunics. He looked back down at the bodies, then back up at me as if he was trying to figure out my sudden need to state the obvious.

"Yes, we killed them. Just as they surely would have killed us if they had proven to be the stronger." Morrigan's tone carried an exasperated edge. I could feel another muttered tirade about 'fools' coming on.

"But we killed them," I repeated, not being able to articulate what my issue was as I wasn't exactly sure of it myself.

"Morrigan, would you please look around and see if there's anything worth salvaging? We could use the extra coin for supplies. I'll, um, deal with this." Alistair rose from his crouch, sheathed his sword and taking my arm, led me a few paces away, turning us so that we no longer faced the site of our recent battle. "Okay, what's the problem? You've killed before."

"Not… people," I exclaimed, gesturing helplessly with my hands. Alistair sighed, running one gauntleted hand through his short hair.

"Look, I don't like it either, but they forced us to. It's best not to think too much about it. Okay?" There was sympathy in his voice, despite his somewhat dismissive words. Valor whined from his place at my side, leaning against me in what I expect was an attempt to be comforting. I looked from one to the other then nodded mutely. Apparently it was one of those things I was just going to have to get used to.

One benefit of my discomfort after killing the bandits was that it distracted Alistair from his grief. When I had first met him, it had quickly become apparent that he liked to talk. He was always making jokes or random comments, filling the silence on his own if no one else seemed inclined towards conversation. But since Duncan had died, Alistair had barely said two words beyond what was strictly necessary. He had obviously been greatly affected by the lost of his mentor, and I had begun to wonder if his cheerful chatter was gone for good. Yet as we returned to Morrigan and approached the town proper he continued to talk to me, perhaps trying to distract me. Morrigan, of course, had to ruin it with a snide comment. What had begun as a pleasant conversation quickly dissolved into the two of them bickering. At least it wasn't more awkward silence. Still I thought it was best to interrupt them before someone got seriously upset, so I asked Morrigan to show us what she had found.

Morrigan had managed to find about 100 silver as well as a couple other small items of value from searching the bandits. She seemed to be particularly reluctant to part with a rather delicate looking golden necklace, so I encouraged her to keep it as her share of the 'spoils of war'. It was a little thing, but it seemed to make her happy. It occurred to me that living in the wilds as she had meant that she had little access to such things before, just as living in the tower had limited my ability to obtain baubles. I think I'll keep an eye out for other little gifts for her and maybe Alistair too. I've never been in the position to give gifts before and it felt kind of nice.

Our goal in visiting Lothering was twofold. First, we needed to obtain supplies. Second, we needed information. The second proved to be easier to obtain then the first. Lothering was full of refugees. Food and equipment was quickly becoming scarce as was shelter. It soon became clear to us that we were not going to be able to spend the night in town after all. This was a great disappointment in that we wouldn't get hot baths and warm beds to sleep in, but the longer we spent in Lothering the more anxious I was to leave. There was such a thick atmosphere of hopelessness and despair. In the tower we were taught to control our feelings or at least hide them, that strong feelings attracted demons. I found myself nervously looking around, half expecting that the townspeople's fear would summon something dangerous.

My general sense of unease was not helped by the large numbers of Templars in town. Apparently the Bann and his men had joined Logain's army, abandoning Lothering to the darkspawn. As the only military force left in the area, the Templars had taken it upon themselves to try to maintain order and protect the refugees for as long as possible. It was weird seeing them do some actual good instead of being preoccupied by their paranoid guarding. Still, I was unsure of how they would react to a couple of mages wandering around unsupervised. It turned out that my fear was unwarranted. Since they had not been notified of any apostates in the area, they were perfectly willing to believe that we were out with the Circle's permission. I think they assumed we were surviving mages who had served at Ostagar and were now returning to the Tower. Whatever their thoughts on the matter, they were too busy dealing with actual trouble to go looking for it. The local Knight-Commander made it clear that as far as he was concerned we weren't his problem.

What was as startling as the lack of suspicion on the part of Templars, was the way Alistair had taken a defensive position between Morrigan and the Templars when we had approached a group for news, only relaxing once it was clear that they were not going to be a threat. When he had worried out loud about Morrigan's apostate status being a problem if she joined us, I had assumed it was due to an ingrained distrust of unsupervised mages and not because he was worried about her safety. Again I find myself having to rethink my assumptions about my almost-Templar. Morrigan had called him closed-minded and a fool, but I was quickly realizing that was definitely not the case. Instead I think he just has a tendency to think out loud a bit too much or to start talking before he has properly considered an issue. His upbringing has left him with certain biases, but he's willing to consider other possibilities. I'm glad Duncan recruited him; he would have made a terrible Templar.

Not only did the Templars not threaten or try to arrest Morrigan or me, they also offered us a small reward for taking care of the bandits for them. It was then, as I was forced to deal with yet another of my basic assumptions being wrong, that I realized what part of my problem with killing the bandits actually was. One of the basic truths of my life had been that attacking someone with my magic would quickly result in my death at the hands of a Templar. It didn't matter why I had attacks someone; it was a sign that I was dangerously out of control and needed to be 'put down' for the good of the world. While I had become accustomed to fighting with my magic over the last couple of weeks, I had yet to really take in my new situation. I was still expecting swift and merciless retribution for the slightest infraction. And killing a person was no slight infraction. Yet no one seemed to care, in fact they were thanking me. It was unsettling to say the least.

We spent the rest of the day in Lothering dealing with some more bandits and other minor threats in exchange for some more coin and supplies. We weren't able to get everything we had wanted, but it was better than nothing. The Chantry even gave us a rather decent sword in exchange for our help, which made Alistair happy. I hope the Knight-Commander manages to get all the refugees to move on before the darkspawn arrive. He's a rather decent person despite being a Templar. I really do hope he survives.

As we ran around fighting bandits and raising money we kept our ears open for rumors and news. Most of what we heard was not good. Logain is apparently blaming the massacre at Ostagar on the Gray Wardens, going so far as to claim that they were the ones to betray the king. Any surviving Wardens, like Alistair and myself, had been declared traitors. He was even offering quite a large reward for our capture, dead or alive. Furthermore Logain had declared himself regent without calling for a Landsmeet, and there was talk of civil war. While I was glad that not everyone believed Logain's lies about the Wardens, in no small part because it meant that only half the village was trying to kill us while the other half was almost helpful, the news of a possible civil war was definitely not good. We needed everyone focused on fighting the darkspawn and not each other. There were also rumors of Arl Eamon being ill, which didn't bode well for our plans to ask for his help against Logain.

We did manage to recruit some aid against the blight in the form of a Qunari warrior and a Chantry lay sister who was surprisingly good with a blade. The Qunari had been left caged for the darkspawn to kill as punishment for murdering a family of farmers. He seemed to regret what he had done, and we managed to convince the Reverend Mother to release him into our care so that he could seek his atonement by fighting the blight. He's a rather strange fellow, but good with a large two handed sword and we need another melee fighter to help keep Alistair from getting overwhelmed. He introduced himself to us as Sten, but the way he said it suggests that it's more of a title than a name.

The lay sister's name is Leliana and she asked to join us after helping us fight off a small group of Logain's soldiers that he had left behind to look for wardens. She's a rather pretty young woman with an Orlesian accent. I was a bit nervous about letting her join us as she claimed that the Maker had told her to, but Alistair insisted that she was more useful crazy than dangerous crazy, at least to us. Morrigan simply repeated her earlier mutterings that we were all fools and made sure we understood that she was not going to share a tent with the woman. If either Valor or Sten had an opinion on the matter, they kept it to themselves.

After we had finished our business in Lothering, which ended up including saving a dwarven merchant from a roaming band of darkspawn, we set up camp just outside town. Much to my delight, I had never met a dwarf before and found them rather fascinating, the merchant we saved asked if he and his son could camp with us. We quickly agreed when we learned that the son was skilled in enchanting and managed to get them to enchant Alistair's new sword with a minor fire rune in exchange for our protection.

Camp itself was a lot more pleasant with our new additions. Leliana offered to cook and turned out to be quite good at it. And once I was done pestering the dwarves, she kept me and Alistair entertained with tales from when she had been a traveling minstrel. Sten was less social but did his share of the chores without complaint. Morrigan kept to herself as usual, but Alistair seemed to be in a good mood even going as far as making a few jokes. The relatively light spirits of the evening were a great relief to me after a day spent around so much fear and despair. Despite the bad news of the day, things were looking up. Sure we were outlaws but we were still alive and had two more people to help share the burden of stopping the Blight. Things could have been worse.

Of course the Archdemon picked that night to come calling. Nightmares about thousands of darkspawn and tainted dragons are apparently one of the many perks of being a Gray Warden. Alistair says it means that I'm tapping into the darkspawn's group mind and that I should start being able to sense them soon. He was on watch when I woke up from my nightmare and was kind enough to explain what was going on. Not feeling like going back to sleep, I joined him on watch taking the opportunity to ask him more questions about being a Gray Warden. Duncan had refused to go into any detail before the Joining, and we hadn't had time afterwards to talk much before the battle. And with Alistair so upset about the loss of the other Wardens, I hadn't wanted to bring it up since then.

As Alistair had only been a Gray Warden six months before I had joined, he couldn't answer all my questions. The senior Wardens had been reluctant to talk about the side effects of the Joining any more than necessary. He was able to reassure me that my crazy increase in appetite was normal and that most people learned how to block the nightmares after awhile. I was less pleased to learn I have only about 30 more years to live under the best of circumstances. I probably shouldn't be bothered too much by it. I'll be lucky to survive the next couple years, never mind 30, what with the Blight and everything. Still there is something about having a time limit set on your life that is just disturbing. From the amount of sarcasm employed when informing me of the fact, I could tell that it bothered Alistair as well.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, contemplating our mutual fates, before I decided I needed a distraction and asked Alistair if he wanted to talk about Duncan. While it accomplished the task of distracting us from our own deaths, it didn't exactly cheer either of us up. Not only does Alistair miss the man, he also seems to feel guilty about being the one to survive instead. I can sympathize with his view that things would be better if we had a more competent Warden around, but I didn't know how to respond to his guilt over his own survival. I tried to be reassuring, comforting, but I'm not sure how well I did at it. I don't know whether to envy him, that he had someone he had cared so much about, or to pity him for what he had lost.

In exchange for listening to him talk about Duncan, Alistair asked me if I was feeling any better about having to kill the bandits. I explained to him a little bit about what it was like living in the tower and my fear of being struck down by the Templars for using my magic against another person. He told me that it was probably different now that I had proven myself and become a full mage, and that either way as a Gray Warden I was no longer under Chantry jurisdiction. Still, he listened to my fears without dismissing them or spouting some Chantry nonsense, which I greatly appreciated. The more time I spend with him, the more reassured I am that he sees me as a brother Gray Warden first, and anything else, whether it be mage or elf, second. And while I doubt he would be ok with me turning into an abomination, he doesn't have any problem with me actually using my magic. It's a strange feeling, actually being trusted to use my magic responsibly without anyone glaring over my shoulder.

When Alistair asked my opinion on where we should head next, I was a bit surprised. He was the senior Gray Warden after all, and the man I was counting on to keep me from ending up chased by an angry mob because I accidentally insulted the village elder. I decided to take it as a sign that he valued my opinion and took a few minute to seriously consider the question, asking him questions about the various groups we had treaties for. This was a chance for me to prove my usefulness despite my lack of life skills.

It was clear to me that either Redclift or the Circle were the most obvious place to start as we knew people at both personally and they were both close by. There seemed to be good reasons for visiting each first. We had a treaty with the circle, and the mages would be powerful allies, yet Arl Eamon would be able to help us against Logain, assuming he was well enough to do so. Arl Eamon might help us with supplies, but the tower was a good source of enchanted weapons and armor. Arl Eamon had a personal reason for aiding us against Logain but would have to take a dangerous political position in order to do so. Neither the Circle nor the Chantry were technically subservient to the crown, but neither would they be eager to get involved in politics. Without a logical reason to choose one over the other as our first destination, I decided to go with my gut and suggested that we should head to Redclift first.

I am a little uncomfortable with the idea of returning to the tower. I had not exactly left under the best of circumstances after all. I know I should be safe now that I was a Gray Warden, but couldn't quite shake the feeling that Gregoir would choose to ignore that fact if he thought he could get away with it which he probably could since we were technically outlaws. Unfair, I know. Gregoir has never shown himself to be less than honorable, though perhaps a bit too quick to toe the Chantry line. Still, I couldn't get the way he had looked at me after Jowan's betrayal out of my mind. I also wasn't looking forward to explaining to Alistair what had happened. I doubt that he would be happy about my having helped a blood mage. Luckily, Alistair didn't question my motives, simply agreeing to head to Redclift first.


	5. Routines and Relationships

While having two more people in our party made me feel more secure, it also made things quite a bit more chaotic when making camp. When it had been just Morrigan, Alistair, and I, things had been quite simple. Morrigan would keep her distance and take care of herself, while Alistair and I would set up our own little camp. We had quickly developed a routine and it had been easy to incorporate Valor into it when he showed up. But now that there were six of us, it seemed inefficient for everyone to more or less take care of themselves, but keeping track of who had done what was a bit difficult.

I decided that we needed to have specific duties assigned. Routine and discreet tasks had always kept things running smoothly in the tower. At first I was a bit worried that I would be stepping on Alistair's toes, as the senior Warden, by taking on the task of getting us organized. But then I decided that it was actually unfair to make him take care of all the little details himself, that this was exactly the kind of thing a second in command should be responsible for.

Leliana noticed me making my lists, and asked what I was doing. After listening to my explanation, she offered to help. She turned out to have quite a bit of experience traveling both alone and with small groups and gave what sounded like sound advice. She also seemed to understand what was required when traveling while avoiding notice from the authorities which seemed a little suspicious but extremely useful under the circumstances.

I spent most of our first day on the road to Redclift talking with each of my traveling companions, trying to get to know them and get a better idea of their skills and competencies. I need these people to help me survive. I need to know what their motivations and interests are in order to know how much I can trust them, to see where our interests intersect and where they may come into conflict. I need to know how to make them need me as much as I need them.

Alistair is in some ways the easiest to understand. We are both Gray Wardens with a Blight to stop. Everything else was secondary. It also appears that he's no more eager to be left alone with such a task then I am. Now that he is more or less back to his cheerful self, and I'm less afraid of him deciding I'm too dangerous to live, I find myself really enjoying his company. He has a nice sense of humor, ranging from the sarcastic and cynical to the playful and silly. And while he likes to talk quite a bit more then I'm used to, he doesn't seem to mind my weak conversational skills, doing most of the talking for the both of us.

Valor is equally simple. I am his master and he is my dog. His unquestionable loyalty and devotion to me is a little overwhelming. I'm not use to having another living being so dependent on me. At the same time, I find his presence comforting. Just having that one thing to rely on, one creature who I know won't turn on me, adds a sense of stability to my life that is greatly appreciated among the recent chaos.

Valor has also provided another thing that I hadn't even realized I was missing, the comfort of non-threatening physical contact. I've never been used to being touched much. When I was younger, there was the occasional pat or hug from a favorite teacher or an older apprentice who thought of me as an adorable doll or pet. But physical signs of affection were rare in the tower. When I was older there were lovers, but that had always been more about sex than anything else. There had rarely been much in the way of foreplay or cuddling, especially with privacy being so limited. And of course, it recent years, I hadn't even had that. I had never realized how nice it was to have a warm body simply pressed against my back.

Despite my enjoyment of Valor's company, I still find physical contact with other people makes me uneasy. Most of my companions seem to avoid touching as much as I do, but Leliana is different. She's the kind of person who places her hand on your arm when she talks to you, as well as initiating other minor instances of contact. There is nothing overly intimate to threatening about the gestures, but they make me uneasy, as it does the others for whatever reasons. She had mostly stopped, after noticing our discomfort, but occasionally forgets and does it out of habit.

Other then the touching thing, there's quite a few other things about Leliana that make me uncomfortable, the whole vision from the Maker thing, for example. I would be uncomfortable around anyone as religiously devote as she appears to be. In my experience, religion and mages don't mix well. The fact that she is possibly a little more than a bit mentally unhinged just makes me more nervous. Crazy mixed with religion tended to work out particularly bad for me. At least at the moment, she seems convinced that I'm one of the good guys.

Despite the many ways Leliana tends to unnerve me, she can be quite good company. She is cheerful, charming, and beautiful. But I find myself more than a little curious about how an Orlesian minstrel with more than a couple questionable skills ended up a Chantry lay sister in Fereldan. There's something she's not telling, some part of her story she is hiding. Though, my mistrust of her hasn't stopped me from putting her in charge of previsions. Not only is she not wanted by the law as far as I know, but she seems more than competent at haggling, at least from what I saw in Lothering.

I feel a little bad for Leliana as it's clear that she is trying to be friendly. But I'm not the only one who finds her off-putting. Leliana and Morrigan got off on the wrong foot when Leliana tried to give Morrigan fashion advice and it only got worse when she asked about the witch's religious views. Alistair gets on best with her, but his cynical view of the Chantry doesn't mesh well with the fantasy she seems to be working with. That and he turns bright red whenever she touches him. It occurs to me that he probably hasn't had a lot of experience with women.

Morrigan seems to warming up to me a bit. She hasn't called me a fool in at least five hours. And since she seems to treat everyone the same, I've decided not to take her mockery personally. I had an interesting conversation with her about her shape-shifting magic. She seemed surprise that I didn't denounce her as a Malificar for practicing unsanctioned magic. It's not like she's practicing blood magic or sacrificing babies. I wouldn't be at all surprised that the chantry banned it just because it would make it easier for us mages to escape their control.

Morrigan's shape-shifting requires a spell for the act of changing shapes itself, but not to maintain the new form. Therefore there is little to give away that she is not a normal animal, but really a mage in disguise. Even if the Templars' had your phylactery, they would have trouble figuring out which squirrel in the tree was their missing mage. Or was it that wren? At the moment she seems reluctant to share her knowledge, but I'm determined to learn at least the basics from her. Maybe I can trade her knowledge for knowledge. There must be something I know and she doesn't that would interest her.

Unfortunately for our more immediate concerns, Morrigan is no better at healing than I am. I wonder if Irving would uphold the right of conscription and let me take Anders, the healer who keeps escaping, off his hands. The man is clearly doing no good sitting around in solitary confinement while they try to figure out how he managed his last escape from the tower. Maybe I'll ask Alistair about it.

In the mean time, we are stuck relying primarily on healing potions and salves. I've taught Valor to recognize elfroot by smell and he's been bringing me any he finds as he explores while waiting for us slow pokes to catch up to him. Morrigan and I have been taking turns processing the herb to refill the vials as we use them up. Alistair is the main beneficiary as he takes on the dangerous job of keeping our enemies focused on him and not on us more delicate types as we take them out from range. At least now we have Valor and Sten to help take some of the pressure off him.

If we didn't need another melee warrior so bad, I might regret bringing Sten with us. He's even more antisocial than Morrigan. For the most part he keeps quiet and does what he is told, which should make him a pleasant travelling companion. But he has a way of looking at a person like they are completely worthless, an embarrassment to be see with. And when he does talk, it's like he makes a point of making the most profound insults using as few words as possible. It doesn't help that I'm more than a little intimidated by his size. I'm used to being smaller than others, but Sten looms over me like a mountain over an ant hill. And he can't even cook, which at moment places him squarely at bottom of my list of people to suck up to.

With Leliana's help, and the information I had gathered from my companions about their skills, I was able to put together a fairly reasonable chore rotation. Alistair seemed impressed when I showed it to him. He suggested that we also put together a regular watch rotation. We had enough people in our group now that we could either double up or only take watch every other night. After some deliberating, we decided to double up on watches. As nice it would have been to get every other night off, it was just safer having two people on watch at any given time.

Alistair and I took the unpopular second watch, as we rarely sleep through the night anyways with our nightmares. I've been getting them nightly since I had my first. I've started to refer to the Archdemon as Mr. Grumpy since he always seems so angry. I like to imagine that he got woken up a century or two too early by the darkspawn and is simply in a bad mood. It makes him seem less intimidating, or so I tell myself. The idea that at some point Alistair and I are going to have to fight that thing is terrifying. I try not to think too much about it.

Since both Valor and Morrigan are naturally early risers, we gave them third watch, which left Sten and Leliana with first. I had expected a few complaints when we announced the chore and watch assignments, but everyone seemed agreeable enough. I figured that if anything needed adjusting, we would hear about it before long.

Our trip from Lothering to Redclift was relatively peaceful and pleasant. We ran into a couple of small darkspawn raiding parties, and some more bandits, but nothing we couldn't handle easily. Leliana and Sten are both competent warriors in their own ways, and it was fairly easy to incorporate them into our fighting tactics. Sten would simply wade into melee, swinging his greatsword around in large circles, while Leliana stayed back with Morrigan and I, for the most part, providing range support with her bow. Alistair and Valor have taken to fighting together; protecting each other's flanks as their enemies flock around them.

I continued to spend most of my time with or near Alistair. Partly it was because he's the one I feel the most comfortable around. It's not that I trust him exactly, more like I trust him more than the others. I feel like I know what to expect from him. I'm also still working on the whole 'making Alistair want to keep me around' angle. I'm feeling less anxious about getting abandoned to fend for myself, but I would rather not risk it just the same.

I am also finding that I actually like Alistair as a person. He's smart and funny, moral without being a zealot, cynical in some aspects, and completely naive in others. He's interesting and good company. As far as people to be stuck with as the last two Gray Wardens in Fereldan during a Blight go, he's actually not half bad. It definitely could be a lot worse. I'm trying not to think too much about the irony of me, a mage, being glad for the company of a trained Templar.

I've been trying to spend at least a little time with each of the others every day. I feel like I'm beginning to figure them out. In fact, that's making me nervous in its own way. I feel like it's about time for another spectacular, world view changing event. I'm getting too comfortable, too hopeful. The last time I felt reasonably positive about my circumstances I almost died and the time before that as well. Maybe I'm just being superstitious. There can't be too many more horrible secrets or betrayals lurking out there for me, right?


End file.
